“If I were psychic, I’d be better at fishing because I’d know where all the little shits were,” he replied. The line was staticky. “Cell reception is spotty out here. Can you hear me okay?”
“Barely. You sound like you’re calling from 1997.”
“That’s actually an improvement. Earlier I couldn’t get a signal at all.” There was a pause filled with crackling static. “What are you doing up so late? I thought spa weekends were all about beauty sleep.”
“If you thought I’d be asleep, why the hell did you call me?”
“Who knows? Maybe the wilderness is getting to me. You didn’t answer my question. Why are you still up?”
“Turns out I’m allergic to relaxation,” I said, curling deeper into my blanket. “Too many facials and massages make me angsty.”
He laughed, and the sound warmed me more than the fire. “The horror. How will you survive?”
“Alcohol helps.” I glanced at my abandoned champagne flute. “How’s the great outdoors treating you? Caught anything bigger than my pinky finger yet?”
“I’ll have you know I caught a very respectable bass this afternoon,” he said with mock indignation. “Manny was just being difficult.”
“Mmm-hmm. I saw the photographic evidence. Very impressive. I’m sure it fed at least half a person.”
“Just for that, I’m not saving you any fish for dinner when you get back.”
“My heart breaks,” I deadpanned. “How will I go on?”
“You’ll manage.”
“Will I?”
“I hope so. It’d be a shame to go on a date by myself. Oh, and hey, guess what I brought for the campfires?”
“Raspberries?”
“They guys thought they were genius. Best s’mores of their lives, apparently.” The amusement in his voice was clear even through the static. “How’s Lia doing? Not too overwhelmed with wedding stress?”
“She’s good. Currently fast asleep after approximately seven mojitos and a game called ‘Pin the Junk on the Hunk’ that I’m fairly certain will remain seared into my mind for years to come. Did youknow that a fourth of the male celebrities she’s worked with are uncircumcised? I didn’t realize it was that common. I’ve seen more dick in the last twenty-four hours than I did that one time I accidentally got a virus on my first computer.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled, leaning back my head and closing my eyes. “How’s the guys’ weekend?”
“There’s significantly less dick.”
“Probably a good thing.”
“Definitely a good thing. Our evening consisted of cigars, whiskey, and Manny telling stories about the time he worked as a dishwasher for Gordon Ramsay.”
“Who’s having more fun, do you think?”
“Hard to say. Though I will admit something I probably shouldn’t.”
“You secretly want to come to the dick fest?”
“I missed seeing you today,” he said quietly, ignoring my teasing.
Oh.
My heart did a stupid little flip in my chest, and I silently cursed it for being so easily affected. Play it cool, Landry. Don’t be weird.
“I missed you too,” I blurted out, then immediately wanted to punch myself in the face. So much for playing it cool. “I mean, well, that. I missed you.”
